The Changeling Knight of Pendragon
by X-kalibuuuur
Summary: Sir Kay, sworn brother of Artoria Pendragon. What would become of him if he was Morgan's beloved son? What would happen if the fae made him their own? MagusOC inserted into Kay. Time-travel fic. Big sis Artoria!
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! This is the greatest idea I've kept in my heart for a long time.**

**A magus OC from the 21st century inserted into Sir Kay! A changeling knight of the round table!**

**Morgan with some backstory! Not a Shirou MC time-travel fic! YIPEEEEE!**

**PLEASE LIKE'N'FOLLOW IF YOU ARE INTERESTED!**

**HERE WE GO!**

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**Chapter1 The Changeling and The Two Queens**

* * *

POV?

* * *

I am a full-grown man.

And I am in diapers.

With my mouth on a beautiful girl's boobs.

Uh, I phrased it wrong.

Ok, please don't arrest me, let me explain!

…Please?

Thank you. Now, where should I start at….

The very beginning?

As you wish! Ladies and gentlemen!

Allow me to tell you a marvelous tale of a young soul, transported through dimensions, and straight into a newborn's body like some cursed birthday gift.

Yes, I am a man from the 21st century.

And I somehow ended up waking inside the body of a zero-year-old.

Yeah, that is what happened!

I was a mage-hunter, by the way.

The executor of the Holy Church.

Does that ring any bells? No? A shame.

The Holy Church is a place where raving fanatics hunt down raving lunatics. Get the general Idea?

My tutor was Kotomine Kirei. That explains why I'm dead.

Oh, you know Kirei!? That fucking bastard?

He tricked me into using the Shroud of Magdalene, which main power is to RESTRICT AND BIND A MALE.

Oh yes. He told me that the Shroud is the key to capturing our target, a vampire.

What he didn't explain, is that I should _never_ make physical contact with it.

There I was, a trussed-up turkey waiting to be eaten.

Apparently, he just _forgot_ to send backup. Sarcasm fully intended.

Kirei killed me along with the vampire when it was busy feeding on me.

Convenient, eh?

I died, praying to whatever high being at home.

Allah, Buddha, Jesus-I didn't care.

I prayed for them to smite down that piece of shit.

I also prayed for FROM SOFTWARE to release their new game.

I prayed for a second chance.

They answered.

Ah well, the last wish, that is.

They just don't let me choose, don't they?

At least they gave me a new life, even though not in a way I had expected.

Who could predict their next life would be in medieval Britain?

As a baby, nonetheless.

Shit, I pissed myself. AGAIN.

I will make the best diapers in this world once I grow up, I swear!

I shall be called King of the diapers!

No guarantees, by the way.

Oh, here comes mommy. She's gorgeous.

Hey, not in a sexual way, of course!

She's my flesh and blood, no matter what. I'm NOT into real-life incest, bro.

Anyway, she is the most stunning woman I've ever seen in my whole life.

With her long pale-blond hair, dazzling porcelain skin and enticing features, accompanied by emerald eyes which glittered with a hint of gold, she was just exorbitant.

At least, from her child's eyes.

"Mama! Mama!", I giggled.

Her eyes widened with overflowing joy as she scooped me up into her arms, smiling from ear to ear while doing so.

"My child. My beautiful son. My only true love. My hope in the dark. I shall give you everything in the world. I shall commit every kind of atrocity for you. I shall do whatever you want."

She kissed me thrice, twice on each eye and once on the tip of my nose.

I held up my chubby arms to softly caress her cheek, enjoying the way she looked at me with ferocious, fiery love.

I was an abandoned child, found on the cold steps of a church.

They took me in, fed me, but they never gave me much love.

Once they found out I had a splendid talent in fighting, they sent me to the Holy Church.

The rest, as they do NOT say, is _spartan_ history.

At least my mentor grew on me and came to love me as a younger brother.

I was very fortunate to have her, Bazzet Fraga McRemitz was her name.

She died though, a few years before my own unfortunate death.

I have a vague idea of who did it.

That son of a bitch….

Welp, that is why I am craving for maternal love, and my mother gave me that in buckets.

She practically drowns me in her love every day, almost with some kind of unhealthy obsession.

There are times when I suspect I am the only thing stopping her from going off the deep end.

Oh, if only I knew about her truth!

If only I knew how accurate my suspicions were!

I guessed she must be a high-born, with her black tiara and dress, along with how she often wore a veil when in the presence of a servant.

What I didn't know was her true name.

An infamous name known wide across history.

The witch-queen, the sister of King Author, the mistress of the dark.

Morgan Le Fay.

* * *

POV Morgan

* * *

Morgan cradled her precious baby, **_her_** Artorias.

How adorable he is!

How wonderful he is!

She thought back to the time she conceived him.

Her son, Artorias Pendragon, rightful heir to the iron throne.

His father was a man like no other.

He wasn't strong, but he was kind.

When she was suffering, he always cooked for her a delicious feast.

When she was sad, he held her hand and stayed by her side without uttering a word.

When she was angry, he listened to the curses she spouted at him.

He was there when she was at her most vulnerable after she fled Camelot.

He was one of the many nameless knights whom died for the king.

He died for her sister, Artoria Pendragon.

And because of that, she would never forgive her sister.

She took almost everything away from her without so much of lifting a finger.

Her fame, her name, her home, and then her love.

She will NOT let her take away her son. NEVER.

She hungrily stared into her son's eyes, trying to tell him without words how she loved him more than anything of this world.

The night crept its way into the sky as the sun sank.

The full moon basked her bedroom in silver light as stars lit the night sky with a faint glow.

'Time to sleep.', she yawned as she climbed onto her enormous bed, her baby tucked close to her chest.

The blankets were carefully wrapped around her baby, keeping him from the cold.

Morgan drearily looked at the peaceful face of her sleeping son, as she too drifted into the void of dreams.

'What shall I do with my son on the morrow', she thought with a warm smile.

Stillness filled the now silent room.

Abruptly, a distortion took place in the now shadowy room.

A colorless void appeared.

Not the void of dreams, however.

The void to the other side of the world manifested in space, unnoticed by the slumbering queen.

A gate has been opened, by someone, or _something_.

A glowing hand reached out.

The hand snatched the baby in one swift swoop.

The void closed, as abruptly as it has opened.

Stillness returned to the room.

Morgan's hand twitched, somehow sensing the absence of her soothing warmth.

Her eyelids fluttered open; her eyes still unfocused.

Her hands hovered over the place her baby boy used to be.

She felt a cold body.

Sleep gone from her eyes, she leaped up, kicking off her blankets and revealing the _thing_ underneath.

The dead body of an infant.

Cold, unmoving, rigid.

Her pupils dilated as her breath quickened.

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!

Not her baby, she prayed.

'Not my son!'

But the truth denied her fragmented hopes, the truth baring its fangs like some vicious beast.

The body of her son.

So cold, so light.

His life, snatched away from her arms.

Snuffed out like a candle in the dark.

'He was murdered.', a cruel part of her mind thought. 'By whom?'

The murderer must have known his birthright.

'The mongrel has used fae magic', she suddenly realized. 'He or she must have used a type of magic synced with dreams, or it would have triggered off the hundreds of traps I've set around.'

Morgan froze.

A mage, whom specialize in dreams.

A mage, whom is powerful enough to circumvent her defenses.

A mage, she knew well.

Morgan's shoulders shook.

"Ha, hahahaha. Heeheehee. HA, HA. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Small chuckles gradually grew into out bursting laughter as Morgan's beautiful face contorted with madness.

"Merlin.", she whispered. "Oh, dear Merlin. Mage of flowers."

"You wanted my son that much?"

"You wanted to tear apart my love that much?"

She threw back her head as fits of maniacal laughter took hold of her once more.

Morgan inhaled deeply as she passed a hand over her face.

Silence engulfed the room once more as she looked down upon her baby's body.

She looked up.

The deadly smile that was etched onto her face was nowhere to be seen.

In its place, there was an emotionless mask.

A cruel, calculating mask.

The mask people fear as Morgan Le Fay.

"Very well.", she said in a monotone, "Let there be war."

* * *

In a land of magic, the kingdom of fairies. The other side of the world.

* * *

Dragons flew in the sky as Behemoths shattered the ground and Leviathans tossed the sea.

The inner world, where all kinds of magic collide.

In this fearsome world, a kingdom was seen floating above a massive forest.

In the kingdom, there was a massive castle of ivory and gold, with its humungous castle walls of arcane iron, taller than any other tower in Britain.

Inside the castle, a Queen ran towards the throne room with a small bundle in her arms.

Royal doctors in white robes ran after her with helpless, but suspiciously relieved looks on their faces, as if they had somehow managed to dodge a bullet.

The royal guards gave each other a knowing look as they pushed open the enchanted oak doors without a word.

The queen took no notice of these peculiar behaviors however, too immersed in her own excitement as she was, she ran over to her lord in his mighty throne.

"Look!", she shouted in jubilance, "**_My_** son! Our son, my king!"

Oberon stood up from his throne with a wide smile as he hugged his wife and their newborn 'son'.

A complex, fleeting expression filled with inner turmoil crossed his face but was gone in an instant.

He remembered how devastated, how horrified his wife looked when nobody dared to answer what happened to their first newborn son.

His Titania, his proud queen of fae had been on the brink of madness.

So, he did what he could, what he must.

He took in a foster son.

A changeling.

Fae minds are very different compared with human minds, for they are an entirely different species, no matter how similar they might be.

For a fae female, children are the soul of life itself.

Frankly spoken, they are driven mad if their children leave them in death.

Being a fae means being immortal.

It also indicates that fae children are very, very rare.

Almost non-existent, one may even say.

Fae breeds not because of need, but because of an unbearable, emotional drive of love for the other.

You could say a fae 'makes' love, for sexual interactions are not needed when a fae bears a kid.

Thus, it is common for a fae to take in a changeling as 'desperate measures'.

Kay, they named him, was one of them.

He was selected because of the fae blood he inherited from his mother, Morgan, and because he was a newborn.

Oberon traced his 'son's' cheek in affection.

No matter what, this baby was now, by all means, his son.

**_Their_** son.

The proof of their undying love.

The anchor Titania needs.

The prince of fairies.

Oberon lifted his son as he walked over to the royal balcony overseeing his kingdom.

He lifted his son high up in the air, straight to the heavens.

He held up his heir for the whole world to see.

His magnified voice boomed through his entire kingdom like divine thunder.

"Behold, your prince!"

**"BEHOLD YOUR PRINCE!"**, his entire army repeated after him.

"Behold, the glorious prince of the fae!"

**"BEHOLD THE GLORIOUS PRINCE OF FAE!",** his army chanted.

"LONG LIVE THE PRINCE!", a civilian shouted.

More and more joined the chorus, as musicians flooded the kingdom with their merry music, and bards sang their enchanting songs.

**"LONG LIVE THE PRINCE!"**

**"LONG LIVE THE PRINCE!"**

**"LONG LIVE THE PRINCE!"**

**"LONG LIVE THE PRINCE!"**

**"LONG LIVE THE PRINCE!"**

Zealous shouts shook the kingdom as agitated dragons roared above.

**"LONG LIVE, FAE PRINCE KAY!"**

* * *

In the midst of this, the baby in question cracked upon one bleary eye.

There was only one thought on his mind as he slowly observed his bizarre surroundings.

'What in the actual fuck?'

* * *

**Here it is, folks.**

**This is an experimental attempt, so please Follow, Love,n' Review if you want more!**

**X-kalibuuuur, over and out!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Please LOVE'N'REVIEW'N'FOLLOW if you like what you see!**

**HERE WE GO!**

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**Chapter2 The Prince and his Masters**

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POV Kay

* * *

Time flew by as I grew up.

Time seemed to flow differently in the land of the arcane.

I've been keeping check on how long I have spent here, in comparison with how many days has passed in the mortal world via clairvoyance.

It seemed that the approximate ratio was 2 to 1.

Basically, it meant that 2 days pass in the fae world in the span of one day via the mortal world.

However, strangely enough, I looked no more than a 3year-old even though I've spent twelve years in the fae world.

That meant I grow a lot slower in the inner world.

I know I'm immortal (Half-fae, nourished and blessed by royal fae blood) thanks to my lineage, but even so…

Time flows 2 times faster, while I age 4 times slower in here until I reach my prime, so that means I will be half the age appearance I'm supposed to be until then.

Shit.

Well, at least fae aging stagnates in their prime.

That explains why every fae looks young, in their 30s, at the very most.

Oh, and I have other more pressing matters to worry about, thank you very much.

"My baby! Honey! Where are you!"

My mother turns downright ballistic if I so much as leave her sight for ten minutes.

Ten minutes means nothing to an immortal being, but she just goes into hysteric mode either way.

Yes, my second mother, god bless her poor heart.

Titania grew awfully traumatized by her 'son's' 'near-death experience', as they told her.

(Technically her son is pretty much dead, but fae does not think that way)

So, she hired a royal guard to look after me at twenty-four-seven, though that didn't stop her from being a worrywart.

Hell, even my first mother was never like that.

…Maybe. I hope.

It would turn out to be very nasty if she was anything like Titania.

Who knows, they might be at each other's throats on first sight if I'm correct.

OOOF.

My neck was yanked up by the collar.

The grip was firm yet gentle, like a lioness to her cubs.

"Fret not, for here he is, Titania.", a low feminine voice spoke.

Lo and behold, Scathach, the former queen of shadows.

Forbidden forever from her own land, banished from the outer world under the command of Alaya.

Scathach didn't mind though.

As a matter of fact, she was so happy that she _gouged a dimensional passage_ straight into the inner world before Alaya could even blink.

In other words, she_ traversed_ the matter of reality on her own.

Yeah, duh.

That's the legendary god-slayer for you.

Aaaaaaaaaand, she's my personal tutor/royal guard/babysitter/future lover.

Yep.

My mother appointed Scathach of all people to pop my cherry once I become of age.

Art of love, Titania called it.

Scathach took one look at me and agreed.

Wut?

I mean, I know I appease to the eyes, but all fae does.

There was no need in agreeing with being my future lover, for heaven's sake!

How did my mother manage to recruit someone like that, you ask?

After barging her way into the inner world, Scathach spent her time hunting phantasmal beasts, but she soon felt a tad bored.

She wanted to test her skills against humanoid beings, so she visited the fae kingdom.

Arriving at the fae kingdom however, she found there was a gigantic tournament to be held in three days.

Scathach followed the bumbling crowd to a humungous slab of titanite, with the rules of the tournament etched onto it.

The number-one champion of the inner world, it read, shall be given privileges he or she wishes, in exchange for his or her absolute loyalty to the newborn prince, as his personal guard and mentor.

_That_ caught Scathach's attention.

A battle royal filled with inhumanly powerful beings of all kinds.

Privileges promised to her which could be used for advanced training, such as exotic herbs and elixirs.

Most of all, the job of training an infant boy which(likely)has certain potential.

She had a daughter, and once trained a few kids, but _never_ a newborn male.

With her perked-up interest as fuel, she breezed through the finals and walked in stride to the grand finals.

Three champions remained in the ring, in full view of the royal fae family.

I, for one, was still cradled in my mother's arms, but I could still remember that day as if it were yesterday.

The battles were just too vivid, too entrancing to my eyes.

They captivated my soul in how they fought, with dignity and honor of their own kind.

One fought with assassination techniques of the ancients, blending in the shadows, striking with the ominousness of death itself.

Another fought with the earthshaking power of Hercules, combined with the monstrosity of a nine-headed hydra.

Scathach however, was on a completely different level.

Every strike, an art of deadly yet intoxicating beauty.

Every pierce, an art which gouged through the heavens.

Every throw, an unstoppable force which upturned hell.

I found myself unmoving, unblinking, staring into the dance of the spears.

Oh, how I wished I could fight like her!

The tournament came to a close, with the former queen of shadows as its victor.

Oberon personally walked down to the bloody pits to congratulate her.

Titania walked right behind.

Scathach's attention, it seemed, was wholly focused on me.

Even while Oberon spoke, her blood-red eyes wandered over to mine, piercing into my depths as if measuring my soul.

"King Oberon.", she spoke.

"May I have some time with my prince?" she inquired.

Oberon nodded in consent, stepping to the side to let her near me.

Without a word of warning or so much of a change in expression, she drew her spear.

The spear stopped inches from my nose.

I, at that time, reacted on pure instinct.

As a former church executer, I felt rapturous delight in honing my martial skills.

Therefore, I reacted in a way a baby never could.

My fist redirected the spear slightly as I pushed it with the back of my hand.

After it came within inches of my face, I twirled my wrist around and caught its head.

The crimson spearhead pierced through my skin with excruciating pain.

My blood flowed as it traveled all the way down to the base of the shaft, where Scathach was holding.

She withdrew her spear, her eyes opened wide with an unreadable expression.

She flicked her finger.

A single drop of my blood into the air, and onto her tongue.

She smiled.

The smile of a huntress after her prey.

There was absolutely no killing intent behind this brief encounter, but the royal guards freaked out all the same.

Strangely, my parents did not.

Afterwards, they told me that Scathach had asked them in advance to let her proceed with her 'Trial of spears'.

I was asleep, by the way.

The trail of spears includes thrusting a spear right into the face of an unexpecting and inexperienced person.

Not the kind of communication they teach at school, but thanks to Bazzet, I somehow grew accustomed to these unpleasant 'surprises'.

Scathach, of course, with all her knowledge and clairvoyance, didn't know.

Thus, she thought I was the one destined to kill her.

The fated student she had been waiting for a millennium.

The most talented of all.

If I were to send a message to myself back then, it would be like this;

'That's hell you are walking into.'

For the next six years, it was complete child abuse.

Abuse I'm undergoing at this very moment.

"Sis Scathach～", I moaned. "Please, I wouldn't sneak off again. So just stop carrying me around."

"Oh, so you want to be cradled by Titania?", Scathach teased.

"NOPE."

"You could have at least sugar-coated that."

"Mom's not here, is she?"

"Why are you so sure? She's right behind you."

"Wha-!", I panicked as my neck let forth a raw crack.

"Hush. She's not here. I've told you about how to sense a presence in hiding, haven't I?", Scathach sighed as she healed my aching neck with a rune.

"Yes, you did. Approximately a day and a half ago. You expect me to master those advanced techniques in one night?", I huffed.

Scathach shrugged.

"You mastered the basics in one day.", she said in an imperious manner.

I bit my tongue.

How I wished to just blurt out that I received training from the very best, not because of my natural talent.

Hey, props to Bazzet.

Wait a second,…are Scathach and Bazzet related?

They look really alike to…oh, Uathach (daughter of Scathach) and Cu (lancer of the Fuyuki war).

At least from what history books describe them.

Figures.

Scathach kissed me on the mouth.

I fossilized.

"Wut?"

"You were just staring at me like an idiot. Thought you might have come of age."

I gave her a frosty look.

"I am a six-year-old inside the body of a three-year-old."

"I know, but I believe you can already mate."

"Ulster people.", I muttered.

"My prince is not pleased with me. I assume he doesn't want my tutoring if I'm correct."

I grabbed her hand and looked up at her with sparkling puppy eyes.

Scathach shook her head with a small sigh.

A small smile wormed itself onto her face as she tightened her grip against mine.

I smiled back.

Her smile stretched.

I tried pulling away.

Her hand didn't budge.

I tried harder.

It didn't budge.

"Where are we going, sister dearest?"

She smiled.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

"I don't feel well. At all."

Scathach smiled brightly.

"No worries! I'm sure Hassan shall fix you well!"

Nope. Please no.

The first Hassan.

The legendary harbinger of death.

The angels whom rings the bell of the end.

Who could even imagine it would be _that_ Hassan that joined the grand finals?

Of course, I thought it to be strange when he seemed to have no intention in fighting, but instead sizing me up from afar.

After the grand finals, he approached my parents and offered his services as a part-time tutor in the arts of assassination.

My mother, being the worrywart she is, accepted the offer in the blink of an eye.

It's not that I dislike the old man.

On the contrary, he reminds me of the Iscariot Division, the ultimate cleansing force of the Holy Church.

In other words, he already earned my respect.

Then why I'm so uneager to meet him?

Well…, let's just say that I literally _die_ for his 'tutoring sessions'.

Did you know that if you cut off your finger in a very, very clean manner, it is possible to stitch the finger right on?

The blade is old-man Hassan.

The thread is Scathach.

Now you get a vague idea of what's going on inside the closed doors.

Does my mother stop me from this grueling session?

Fae thinks differently, bro.

No permanent death?

Enhanced survival skills against the strongest beings existing?

Please-kick-my-son's-ass-to-hell-and-back, is the conclusion.

Don't ask me what in hell the first Hassan is doing in the inner world.

When I hinted at this last time, he said something about reaching enlightenment before slicing my head right off my shoulders.

A junkie on crackers would've held a better conversation.

I'm not suicidal enough to ask the same question.

That small incident (I think I'm already half-insane by calling decapitation a small incident, but anyways) occurred three days ago.

I was hoping he would roam in the wilds for his so-called 'enlightenment'.

It seemed that he didn't venture far away.

Far away enough for me to plan some time on how to ditch his lessons, that is.

'Scathach beat me to it this time', I thought in dismay as I thrashed and bit, discarding every bit of demureness I had left.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, so they say.

Scathach toyed with me as a lioness does to her cub-hey, I'm sensing some Deja Vu right here-, and took me straight to my doom.

"NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

I wept.

* * *

**In a lightless dungeon**

* * *

Up, down, pivot, backflip.

Three daggers at 6'O'clock, an explosive trap on the far left.

Jump, a gaze from the right, but that must be misdirection.

Roll to the right, bring the left blade up, parry.

A dull gold flash illuminates the pitch-darkness.

Sparks like cinder.

Two blue orbs, the flames of hell, waiting, beckoning.

**"Do not let fear control you. You control the fear."**

A voice, so close.

Duck-Argh!

A kick hidden behind the other leg.

My vision turns red and white.

A ringing sound reverberates in my eardrums.

A thundering clang as the large blade slices the dark.

I put my foot on the blade, as my right spear pierces through the black cloak.

Nothing.

**"Rely not on sight, for that shall be the last thing you see."**

I swing my right blade, but it was too late.

My vision rolls.

I find myself staring at my own headless body, blood spurting from the severed neck like some macabre fountain.

Lights return to the pitch-black dungeon.

Scathach lifts up my head and expertly weaves it onto my neck with primeval runes of the old.

I blinked as I stumbled, my sense of equilibrium momentarily disturbed.

I felt a nauseous feeling surging from my stomach.

I spat out a large glob of hardened blood, gagging at the unpleasant taste of iron.

I grimaced at the tall figure standing silently a few feet away.

Stygian full body armor covered by a pitch-black cloak.

A horned skull, the half-face mask, with glowing azure orbs of hellish fire peering through.

He held a massive sword over two meters tall, its edge faintly lit with the same hellish fire in his eyes.

He walked as if he was gliding, soundlessly and effortlessly across the cracked floor, like some living shadow.

**"What did you learn, prince?",** he stated.

"Do NOT overly rely on clairvoyance in the midst of a battle. It is nothing more than a tool to be used when it should."

The first Hassan nodded serenely.

I blinked.

He was gone.

"How does he do that?", I turned towards Scathach in frustration.

She wasn't there.

I looked around, only to find the large dungeon devoid of life.

I was about to stomp the ground in mild fury when a voice froze my spine.

"How does he do what, my dearest prince?"

Scathach stood right before my eyes with her crimson spear positioned underneath my chin.

"How?", I muttered in disbelief.

"You will learn one day, my prince.", she playfully said as she twirled her crimson spear in her left hand, her right cupping my cheek.

"One day."

* * *

**In Kay's royal bedroom**

* * *

A demon owl hooted as it took flight from a nearby tree.

After his parents bid him a good night, Kay was found sitting up straight in his room.

Moonlight -or something similar to that-, washed over his calm face as he repeated his routine.

His silver spear that Scathach had gifted him glinted as he applied runes to it, enhancing the metal beyond belief.

His silver great-sword Hassan had gifted him let out a low hum as he scrubbed enchanted oil onto its body, making it shine like the deadly blade it already was.

'One day.', he promised.

'One day, I shall take you in my arms, mother.'

* * *

**Aaaaaaaaaand, cut!**

**Please review to let me know your thoughts! X-kalibuuuur, over and out!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I WILL USE MORTAL YEARS (YEARS IN BRITAIN) IN THE CHAPTER. (REALLY CONFUSING, WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF?)**

**One guy suggested I do some FGO side-story. OF COURSE! Just...not now.**

**PLEASE REVIEW&LOVE etc.**

**HERE WE GO!**

* * *

Chapter 3 The Bull and The Prince

* * *

POV Kay （40 fae years=20 mortal years, the physical appearance of a 13-year-old)

* * *

"SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!"

I ducked under a low branch and hopped over several tangled roots.

"Hurry on, my prince! No time to tarry!", Scathach hollered joyously as she controlled her 'steering polls'.

I cursed under my breath as I kicked the ground with a burst of inhuman force.

My body shot forward at speeds which made the air frizzle with plasma, my heart pounding loudly in my ears.

I've spent 20 years since I arrived here, and through abuse of my own body, I managed to gain the appearance of a young teen with astounding physical abilities.

Hell yeah!

Well, teen body or not, I'm still in quite a tight spot.

What do I mean?

You see, Scathach apparently had nothing better to do than to find _the_ Gu Gal Ann Na, the heavenly bull Gilgamesh and Enkidu slain, and have a ride-of-joy.

"MMMMMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Welp. The bull was NOT pleased.

So unpleased it went berserk.

The thighs of the former queen of DunScaith didn't seem to fit his tastes.

Or it might be the fact that Scathach thought it would be a brilliant idea to directly stab the eyes of the heavenly bull with Gae Borgs.

No kidding.

Whenever she wanted to go right, she stabbed her left spear.

Whenever she wanted to go left, she stabbed her right.

Whenever she wanted it to accelerate, she stabbed deeper.

Whenever she wanted it to slow down…, sadly, she hadn't the faintest clue.

However, she had an alternative.

Scathach, being the splendid genius she was, had an idea to strike two birds with one stone.

"Kay! It's not training if you keep running around! Your job is to find a way to stop this bull!"

Yep, that was her magnificent idea.

"That's fucking nonsense!", I screamed back as I narrowly dodged a hoof the size of a big tree.

"I'm not asking you to kill it. I'm only asking you to find a way in ceasing this stampede!", Scathach said with a roll of her eyes.

"Whose fault is this in the first place, eh!? Ms. Smarty-pants?"

Scathach dug her spear deeper.

The bull roared.

I screamed.

"MMMMMMMMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"MMMMMMMMMMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

* * *

POV Scathach with some narration

* * *

The world shook as the bull tried its best to squash the noisy pest.

Scathach snorted as she watched him run for his dear life.

She also watched him trail his spear on the ground, sending a gorgeous spray of sparks into the air with shrill metallic screeches.

"You already found the solution, haven't you?", she whispered in admiration.

At first glance, Kay seemed to have been running around randomly in panic.

However, he had been running around in circles and straight lines, not in erratic scribbles. That means he has been drawing massive geometric patterns onto the ground all the time.

The trap to kill the bull.

Agni, the rune of flames.

The arcane blaze of terror tore through the bull's behind, roasting off the skin of his rear.

The bull charged forward in blind terror (literally), and right into the welcoming arms of another trap.

Acili, the rune of acceleration.

Normally, it is impossible to accelerate a golden bull the size of a jumbo jet.

The mere thought of how much mana it may consume is downright outrageous.

Kay circumvented the obvious problem by cleverly making the bull tread on the rune itself, thus making the bull rewrite the entire rune as the owner.

In other words, the bull applied a monstrous rune of acceleration to itself without its knowledge.

How?

Never wondered why Kay screamed like a bitch and made his spear screech like nails against the blackboard?

Yes, he was baiting the bull all along.

Kay, the prince of fae had NO plans in turning into meat-paste.

* * *

POV Kay

* * *

At last! AT LAST, I FINISHED TRACING THIS ANNOYING RUNE!

It just was a pain in the ass because of its sheer size.

If the rune was any smaller, the results would've never been as satisfactory.

A bull with his ass on fire, running straight towards you.

Let's do some simple physics, shall we?

A lumbering tower of gold= heavy beyond belief.

300m per second= velocity knocking on the sound barrier.

Accelerated three times= the speed of a rifle bullet.

What happens if you put all three together?

The answer is, something quite unstoppable.

In front of me, there is this impressive cliff, called the Indestructible Gate.

Sure to its name, the cliff is filled with rare metals and incredibly hard rocks.

Behind me, there is this Heavenly bull turned into an unstoppable battering ram.

The strongest spear against the strongest shield?

I wonder who shall win in this paradox?

Time to find out.

I already mastered the art of blending in the shadows, vanquishing every trace of my existence in the blink of an eye.

I calmly strolled through the bull's massive legs as it flew past me, its body rigid in surprise at the sudden burst of speed.

The mighty Gu Gal Ann Na plunged into the so-called indestructible cliff with a deafening smash.

The explosion was still ear-wrecking even though I made sure to cover my ears and mute the auditory havoc with a simple rune.

Metallic rocks of high density filled the sky, blown away by the collision of tremendous power.

A brief silence filled the air.

'The silence before the storm', I thought as I felt shadows descending.

Rhythmical thuds of heavy things hitting earth filled the area as the bull-made meteorites rained through the canopy, killing the short silence with tiny explosions of their own.

I nimbly weaved through the carpet bombing, using my great sword as a shield against the shards and debris which flew my way.

A few minutes have passed when the dust had finally settled, allowing me a clear view of the now barren forest.

Craters littered the land like some planet in outer space.

I stood in silence as I used my superior clairvoyance of a royal fae.

Nothing.

The bull was pretty much…immobilized.

A soft hand reached out from behind.

I merely slid forward as I left the hand to grab air.

"My prince."

I ignored the voice.

The bull might wake up.

Bravery is not an excuse for foolishness, Hassan has said.

Constant vigilance!

Scathach snaked her soft arms around my neck as she kissed my neck.

I felt my legs turn into jelly as something stirred.

NO!

BAD BOY KAY! SIT!

Scathach snorted in amusement as she traced her finger along my cheekbone.

"You killed a divine beast.", she whispered into my air.

Her hot breath invaded my brain as I felt-

BAD BOY! SIT!

Phew.

"I haven't forgiven you yet.", I grumbled in feeble defiance.

"You already plan on forgiving me, my little prince? How sweet of you."

I felt like bashing my head against a wall.

I didn't really need to.

A sudden pain shot through my head as I grunted in pain.

I have _a lot_ of pain tolerance, mind you, and when I say a lot, I mean it by insane standards.

Getting yourself skewered and decapitated almost every day does wonders on you.

You stop fussing around when a crucial part of your body flies off.

I entirely blame my masters for that.

What's my point?

I'm trying to tell you that this pain in my head is just so unreal.

"Ah, as expected.", I hear Scathach mutter.

"What, do you, mean?", I gasped out.

"Your body is mutating after your first 'God-slaying'.", she explained.

"The intense pain is solid proof that your soul is devouring the soul of Gu Gal Ann Na."

"…."

I blinked at her with tears in my eyes.

Wait a second. Then….

"You did this on purpose.", I blurted out.

"Yes I did.", she confirmed my suspicions with a nod.

"I hate you.", I said with a pout.

Scathach threw back her head as she let out a hearty laugh.

Her voice rang out like bells on a wedding day, joyous and contagious.

As much as I hate to admit it, it did soothe my mind from the pain.

I pouted harder.

Scathach gave me a hug.

"Congratulations, young god-slayer.", she teased.

"Thanks, old witch.", I replied dryly.

She smiled as she lifted me up.

I smiled back.

Her smile widened.

I struggled.

Her grip was iron.

"…Sorry, auntie?", I tried.

Her grip tightened like a vice as her smile grew stretched.

I felt a Déjà vu.

She backdropped me to my doom.

I was left there, unconscious with my lower part of my body sticking from the earth like some deformed tree.

When I regained consciousness, I told her the politest thing possible.

"Fuck off, you old hag."

Scathach sent me back to dreamland.

* * *

POV Scathach

* * *

Scathach sat next to the strange exterior that was her disciple.

A huge pout was on her face.

"You used to call me sis.", she said angrily as she gave her little prince a small kick.

He twitched.

Something fell from his inner pocket.

Scathach picked the thing up with a curious expression.

It was a black leather card.

'Dragonhide', she thought. 'Must have cost him plenty.'

Golden threads were stitched into words that were barely readable.

Thankfully, there was only one sentence.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SIS SCATHACH!, it read.

She suddenly remembered the strange conversation she had with her little prince.

It was the tenth year of her tutelage, and they were chatting in the royal garden.

'Do you celebrate on your day of birth?", he had innocently asked.

'Only every twenty years.', she had answered curtly.

'When is your birthday, sis Scathach?", he had asked.

Seeing no reason not to, she had answered.

'First day of the second week of the Moon. (July 15)'

His eyes lit up as he nodded.

The conversation had changed into other topics as they spoke on.

Scathach softly traced her fingers over the enchanted Dragonhide, her crimson eyes drinking in the poorly woven words of gold.

She sat there, staring for what seemed like an eternity.

The first day of the second week of the Moon, she realized with a jolt.

Ten years had passed since that small talk.

He still remembered.

It was so long since she had received something so sweet, so pure.

She gave the leather card one last look as she stood up.

"You needn't pretend to be unconscious.", she told her little prince.

His legs twitched as he flipped himself out of the hole.

"You needn't look at things you aren't meant to.", he countered with a red face.

A genuine smile tugged her lips.

"How many days did you spend on this?", she asked.

"One.", he answered without looking at her.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Two."

She raised both eyebrows.

"Three"

She rolled her eyes.

His shoulders sagged.

"You don't believe me?"

She gave him a blank look.

"…14.", he said with a sigh.

"You killed a small dragon, enchanted his hide with hundreds of microscopical runes along with fae elixirs, and wove the words with your own hair."

"…."

"I am your mentor. I can tell your handiwork when I see one."

"FIIIIIIIIIINE. You win! I made this all by myself!"

Kay crossed his arms as he turned around with a huff.

Weaving one's hair into a message was an ancient practice of the fae, usually meant for someone very close.

It meant trusting others with his or her own soul.

She rolled up his 'gift' and slid it into her bosom.

Scathach walked up to her sweet prince.

He tried to turn in the opposite direction.

She grabbed his face.

"Um-"

"Hush."

He was in for a _very_ long night.

She would make sure of that.

Somewhere far off, a lone owl watched in rapt attention.

* * *

?: "Look, dearest! Our son is about to get laid!"

?: "Yes indeed! We must celebrate when they return!"

* * *

**STATUS FGO STYLE**

**NAME**: Scathach/ Royal Spear of the Fae Prince/ Former Queen of Shadows

SEX: female

HEIGHT/WEIGHT: 178cm/74kg

ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good

STATS (NP: Noble Phantasm):

Strength: B

Endurance: B

Agility: EX

Mana: A+

Luck: A

NP: A++

SKILLS

1\. PASSIVE

Magic Resistance: A

Transcender of Humanity: EX (Upgraded Ver. of Wisdom of the Haunted Ground)

Presence Concealment: B

Divinity: A

2\. ACTIVE

Eternal Arms Mastery: EX

Primeval Rune: A+++

Slayer of the Divine: EX (Upgraded ver. of Godslayer)

NP:

Gae Bolg Infinitum (The Crimson Spear which Gouges The End): B+~EX (Anti-human~Anti-world)

Spear of My Prince (The Queen who Serves): B (Anti-human)

* * *

**PLEASE REVIEW TO LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS!**

**X-kalibuuuur, over and out!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi! Thanks for the interesting reviews.**

**There was one which pointed out the bizarreness in how the Heavenly bull died so easily. **

**There are some main reasons which I shall explain below and one other secret that will be revealed in this chapter!**

**Why did I make the heavenly bull seem so easy?**  
**I would not go into REALLY minor details, but the bull is actually weak against impact.**  
**Ishtar only sent the bull against the boundaries of Uruk a very few times.**  
**Why didn't the Gilgamesh duo just nuke it, you ask?**  
**Well, for one, they actually had to fight against Ishtar at the same time while protecting Uruk. So NO maximum-powered Enuma Elish for them.**  
**Aaaaaaand, I know this sounds a little weak but Scathach did stick two Gae Bolgs into his head. (I tried to imply by the fact she managed to 'steer' meant the bull actually knew its life was in danger. One deep thrust, then its a goner.)**

**Anyways, enough of that.**

**HERE WE GO!**

* * *

Chapter4

I Am Thou, Thou Art I

* * *

POV Kay

* * *

Three days have passed since the incident with the Heavenly bull.

Three days I endured back-wrenching pain and cataclysmic pleasure of the groin.

Yes, carnal pleasure accompanied by the excruciating pain of my head for three days.

When I woke up, the first thing I saw was my own dumb reflection in Scathach's red eyes.

Golden eyes with a fiery glow, I realized with awe.

As if sensing my immediate interest in my changed eye-color, Scathach chuckled as she caressed my cheek.

Her porcelain and voluptuous body pressed against mine as she tilted her head slightly sideways, her purple shade of hair creating a curtain against my face.

MY BOY!

YOU HAD BEEN ON FOR THREE DAYS!  
SIT YOU IMBECILE! SIT, I SAY!

Her sly smile told me she knew exactly what turmoil was going on within.

A battle I'm fated to lose.

She licked her lips in a sultry manner, her saliva glinting in the sun.

When she shifted, her curvaceous form teased me in the cruelest manner.

I growled as I pushed her down.

13-year-old body or not, she'll pay for her crimes of seducing a robust young man.

Scathach's smile grew wider.

Her long athletic legs captured my hip-like a female praying mantis making a feast out of her own male.

I struggled.

Her arms latched themselves around the back of my head.

Shit.

Fuck my hormones.

Scathach expertly lifted her rear so she can 'sheath' my 'spear'.

Not again.

This won't end at this rate. At all.

I reach 'climax', I faint, she teases me, I 'stand' up, then back to the beginning.

'Central Dogma of love', I poetically thought as I was being drowned in her abyss once again.

* * *

7 days later

* * *

I never knew I had such…_vitality_ inside me.

Must have something to do with my mutation, although the biggest change was just my eyes.

Just a few days ago, it was golden with a fiery glow.

However impressive it might have been, it is nothing compared to what it is right now.

Orbs of exorbitant yet lambent molten gold, ablaze with heavenly fire.

No, I'm not being narcissistic.

My eyes are on fire. Literally.

Is this the curse of that bull? Did he hate me that much for setting his ass on fire?

Karma is a bitch.

Scathach pinched me.

I glared at her.

"You were thinking about another woman.", she said with a dangerous gleam in her eyes as she narrowed them.

"Wut?"

"You were thinking about her eyes."

I stared back at her in confusement.

She stared right back at me.

We kissed.

WHY?

Urgh, this is really getting nowhere.

"Scathach, we need to go back."

Scathach gave me a meaningful smile.

"I suppose we do."

Hmm, I have a bad feeling about this. My spine is tingling.

"What are you hiding?"

"Nothing but a small celebration for your cumming of age."

"You missed the spelling."

"And you missed my trap."

I found my whole body bound in arcane chains, as a rune was set off by the slightest twitch of my right foot.

She must've set this trap when I was…well, immobile.

"How did you know I will try to escape?"

She rolled her eyes affectionately.

"I just know, my prince. I always know."

Scathach took me by the collar and held me in her arms-bridal style.

"Please stop this."

"Either I drag you through the ground like a sack of potatoes or I cradle you in my arms. You choose."

"…I despise you."

Scathach kissed me.

I felt a dopey smile break through.

Damn it!

* * *

The road back to the kingdom went without any major happenings, if you turn a blind eye to Scathach's occasional beast-slaying.

A walk in a park compared to that bull, yes, but it still made Hercules look like a toddler.

After a little this and a little that, we arrived at the great gates.

Nothing seemed out of place except for the fact that It was wide open.

A red carpet was rolled out.

The people were cheering.

I sent a pleading look at Scathach.

'Please don't walk through that gate', I pleaded. 'PLEASE'

She smiled reassuringly at me.

She walked straight through with her head held high, with me still in bridal-style.

I frothed from my mouth.

I saw my parents grinning like lunatics from afar.

I cursed them.

They waved.

I buried my face into Scathach's lean belly.

She patted my head.

The people let forth a big aww in unison.

Harmony sucks.

* * *

A few million years later (Inside my head)

* * *

"It is time for you to leave this Kingdom and see the world with your own eyes.", Oberon announced in a grave tone.

There is a tradition that when at a young fae's coming of age, he or she will leave their home and delve in unknown habitats.

Some of them traverse to the outer world, to the world where I was born.

Take lady Vivian for example. The famous lady of the lake.

She was a noble fae, but she decided to spend a few centuries in the mortal world.

I had been waiting for this kind of moment for a long time.

"On one condition."

Huh?

"You must have full proficiency in the arts given to you by your masters."

My mouth hung wide open.

"Father, you mean, you mean I have to make my teachers impressed before I go?"

Oberon nodded with a grimace.

His eyes quickly darted to his wife and then back at me.

I got his message.

'Your mother will_ murder_ me if I let you go without some kind of guarantee.'

'Father, I asked you to convince mother, no matter what it takes!'

'I TRIED! Believe me, my son. I TRIED!'

You learn to communicate via eye-contact when there is an over-protective mother nearby.

Well, it seemed I had no other choice.

I leaped through the window and into the canopy below.

I rolled several times to kill the momentum, stopping myself from skidding into a black-cloaked figure.

A figure, who looked oddly familiar.

**"Where do you think you are going, prince?"**, the old man of the mountains asked.

Scathach landed right beside me and patted my shoulder.

"I never knew you were so eager for the _final trails_.", she quipped in amusement.

FUCK MY LIFE.

* * *

After some shouting and cursing

* * *

"Do you understand the rules?", Scathach asked.

I nodded.

"Land a hit on both of you when you two take turns at maiming me. Simple enough."

Scathach smirked. Hassan said nothing.

"SOOO, when do we star-"

My imaginary vision glided downwards, a vision of me getting beheaded flashed through my mind.

My sixth sense blared as I parried the black sword with my own.

As I imagined. Without warning, without mercy.

Strike when you can, for you are the shadow.

A spear thrust from the side.

I backstepped, leaned down, then jumped out of the way from a flurry of kicks.

Another slash aimed at my abdomen, my arms, my jugular, and my collarbone, all completed in one fluid motion.

I gritted my teeth as I used my sword to redirect every slash while using my spear to lash at my behinds, fully aware of her deadly presence.

Swords met swords in a fearsome dance as spears intertwined with morbid elegance.

Sparks filled the space with the density of fireworks, blinding me with its yellowish light.

Instinct kicked in as I dodged and parried, everything blurred yet precise, like an orchestra with no conductor.

I roared in an explosive burst of raw power, forcing Scathach back with a backhanded slash from my sword.

I pushed and lunged my spear in a manner that resembled an iron mace, transferring my entire momentum into one heavy overhead strike.

The ground cracked into web-like patterns, seemingly unable to restrain my immense force as giant slabs of rock rushed up to meet me after the brief equilibrium.

Hassan let forth a blast of hellish fire of his own, as he pushed me back into the air and onto the spear tip of Scathach.

I stepped onto her spear and used it as a springboard to launch myself right back, smacking her ominous tip aside with the hilt of my sword to prevent a throwing attack.

Another overhead strike, Hassan dodged, I followed.

There are only using less than one-third of their full strength, I know, but it didn't make it any easier.

Hassan fights in the shadows, but when there is none, the world itself slowly turns into the dark.

I had little time.

The sky was getting darker by the minute, and Hassan was getting more harder to locate.

He slipped in and out of the matters of reality, making me impossible to touch him.

Scathach occasionally jabbed and thrust at the moments I least expect, forcing me to rebalance myself every time she does.

What can I do?

What in hell can I possibly do?

* * *

POV Scathach

* * *

Scathach watched as Kay struggled to keep on with us, his body pushed to its limit, but not nearly enough.

She spent 7 days utilizing his soul so that he can safely merge with divine power, but the 'shell' is his own to break.

He must overcome his absolute limit, his Achille's heel.

He must transcend humanity.

Release the rage, she coaxed him.

The power is yours to use.

The thunder which smites all.

The immovable force which crushes everything beneath their feet.

He must realize he is blessed by the holy.

The affinity he has with the divine is something she had never seen once in her life. That meant _thousands _of years.

From the very first time when she had pierced him with _the_ Gae Bolg, the most powerful spear made from the horn of the great Kreed, she had felt something different.

The way his blood seemed to have been _vitalized _via contact with the relic of the great ones of the abyss.

True enough, faint red tattoos of divinity rapidly spread across his skin, starting from the back of his right fist-the place where he had first made physical contact with the relic.

The dimly colored tattoos burned a brighter shade of red in correlation with how many phantasmal beasts he had slain.

Last night, it shone like primeval runes when he was asleep, when his body had finished its mutation.

His body has, whether he knew of this or not, evolved into something extremely similar to a demi-god.

A demi-god of the old, that is.

All that is left is for him to break his own boundaries.

'Even Hercules didn't have that much affinity with the divine', she mused.

'I know you are ready, my prince.'

'I always know.'

* * *

POV Kay

* * *

I felt HOT.

Not metaphorically, mind you.

My blood burned.

I don't know why my body seemed to be on fire, but it didn't feel unpleasant.

It felt like adrenaline flowed through my veins instead of bodily fluid.

I started to attack stronger, move faster, react more accurately.

I felt like I'm nowhere yet everywhere, in the form of ebiquity.

I knew when to step back, when to jump, when to turn, when to roll, when to slide in.

Is this what enlightenment feels like?

I let the spear pass my head by mere millimeters, calmly using my own to bat it aside.

A blade cleaved towards my left leg, but I hopped aside and nailed it to the ground with mine.

I spun in the air and kicked Hassan's horns, tipping him off balance while backflipping, smoothly connecting it to a dropkick aimed at the spearhead which lunged at me.

A move I would've never dared to do against my masters, but it felt so… natural.

Hassan dissipated into molts of darkness, flowing in and out, ready to strike death.

I took a deep breath.

My upper torso was rather wrecked with injuries of all kinds, and that was the reason I noticed something intriguing.

My tattoos (I like to think of them as birthmarks) were _burning_ with crimson energy.

A fiery torch of divine power against the dark.

**"Impressive."**, Hassan spoke for the first time since our fight started.

**"I shall up a notch."**

With those daunting words, he struck.

I didn't feel anything until it was too late.

My head flew off as my motionless body was impaled through the heart by a crimson spear.

Ha, I knew they were going REALLY easy against me.

Their levels are just broken.

…Hey, why are they just staring at me?

Um, a little help here, please?

….

Oh, shit.

Faes are immortal in the inner world.

When a fae 'die', their bodies are disassembled and then rebuild.

Then why did they have to patch me up till now?

It is because it takes an awful lot of time, with torturous pain as a bonus.

A pain more intensified by cursed weapons, by a hundredfold.

'This is bad.', I thought at the back of my head as I screamed.

I screamed from my severed head, unable to do anything as my masters watched intently, as if trying to observe and pry open a secret hidden inside.

My sight faded away until darkness remained.

'Is this the underworld?', I pondered as my awareness dissipated.

* * *

Black, empty, nothingness.

On and on and on.

My existence hovered around like an object in outer-space, without gravity, without grace.

I was getting bored when a spark ignited.

The spark started off small, weak, but soon grew stronger, brighter, more..._**alive**_.

'Did someone light a torch?', I asked myself dumbly as the golden light appeared amongst the nothingness.

The golden light spoke.

**'Why don't you use me?'**, a majestic voice asked.

'Who are you?!'

**'Gu Gal Ann Na. Please call me Gul.'**

'You are the bull I slew?!'

**'Yes, I am.'**

'Err, sorry?'

**'No need to apologize. As a matter of fact, I'm glad you killed me.'**

'Ooooooook?'

**'I was once a god, driven mad by my insight. I lost my human form, and turned into a golden bull driven by the need to destroy.'**

'That's…well, I'm very sorry to hear that.'

**'Thank you. By releasing me from my physical form, I managed to manifest into something I once was, inside your mental landscape.'**

'Did you die already, I mean, in the mortal world?'

A low rumble of thunder resounded in my ears.

I identified the sound as laughter.

**'My true body lies in the inner world. I had only manifested in my astral body. If I were to be kept in the mortal plane, I would have wreaked havoc to dozens upon dozens of countries. Well, I was weakened by the loss of my mana. Otherwise, you would have had _A LOT_ harder time killing me.'**

Gul put a huge emphasis on the 'a lot' part. He must have felt disgraced being slain in that manner.

'I see, um, yeah. I kind of felt that. I was really lucky. So…you suggested something about me using your power.'

**'I am you, in a technical sense. Our souls are one. Your power is mine, as mine is yours.'**

'Ok. So, what's stopping us?'

**'You.'**

'Me?'

**'Yes, you. You are afraid to admit you aren't human. You are afraid to admit that your existence has changed, unlike your prior life.'**

'…You can see my memories?'

**'Glimpses of them. You pledged an oath to remain human, no matter the cost. Haven't you?'**

'….'

**'Who are you?'**

'What in h-'

**'ANSWER ME, CHILD. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?'**

Gul's pressure suddenly bore down on me like the sky itself, his tone crushing any doubt I had left into smithereens.

Even Atlas would've bent his sorry back.

'Kay', I squeaked back.

**'Kay, yes. Kay of what? Kay of whom?'**

Gul asked in a much softer tone.

'Kay, born from a British noble lady with fae blood. Kay, the changeling. Kay, the son of King Oberon and Queen Titania. Kay, the proud prince of fae!'

I felt braver with each word, finishing my speech with unveiled dignity.

**'Yes, you are. But you forgot one thing.'**

Gul said in a suspiciously merry tone.

'What?'

**'You are Gu Gal Ann Na, the mightiest of them all! What is it there to fear with _me_ by your side?'**

I snorted in a good-sported way.

'My, aren't you the self-conscious one!'

**'With good reason. You know _NOTHING_ of my true power, Prince Kay.'**

Another huge emphasis on 'nothing'. Boy, is he proud!

'Then show me.'

**'Are you ready to rock?'**

'Anytime, Gul.'

**'Then repeat this sacred vow. I am thou, thou art I.'**

'I am thou, thou art I.'

**'The contract is sealed. Let us show them what we are made of!'**

**'HERE WE GO!'**

* * *

The darkness shattered, and the void ripped itself apart.

Golden embers danced wildly around the fallen body of the prince, creating a massive vortex of vibrant arcane power.

His hand twitched.

The severed head grew back onto his shoulders, with only a slight difference.

Horns of transparent sapphire the length of one foot, raptured from his skull with a metallic crack.

His eyes fluttered open, ablaze with golden flames so strong they reached his eyebrows.

A wild smile adorned his face.

**"Time for round two."**, Gu Gal Ann Na said.

* * *

**Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand rap!**

**PLEASE REVIEW TO LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS! X-kalibuuuur, over and out!**


	5. ABOUT UPDATES

I MIGHT BE UPDATING **'Type-Moon Gamer'**_**and**__** 'Saber Shiro and Master Artoria' for now (ALL FATE FANFICS)**_

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_**Also, Go check out my newest one from my profile page! :**_

_**The name's El-Melloi, James El-Melloi Archibald**_

A tale of a random guy crammed inside the youngest member of House El-Melloi. The journey to restore the house name and honor shall now begin. (Pre-fifth Holy Grail War, Old sister Reines, Stylish Hero-acting)

**Hope you like this new idea! Feel free to drop a comment!**


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